


Just Breathe

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-06
Updated: 1999-05-06
Packaged: 2018-11-10 21:58:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11135508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser's thoughts as Thatcher, pregnant with his child, lies critically injured.





	Just Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Just Breathe

by Nat

"Just breathe. That's all I want you to do, that's all I'll ask. Never  
again will I ever ask you to do anything. Just take a breath and find  
yourself. Please."

You find yourself wondering why, questions roll inside your head and  
fill you as if you were an endless pit. You wonder why things must end  
like this, why the present holds this fate that you want to deny, why  
a greater power and a greater sense as said to you, "This is how it is,  
learn from it" and why you can't shut it out. It seems to you that everything  
you've done has been in vain and now as you gaze upon the person you  
love lying in a hospital bed in the intensive care unit, you question  
yourself on how much you really have done.

Many have come and many have gone to say to you, "I'm sorry for it all"  
before anything has happened. Their doubts flash in your head and you  
wonder whether the optimism you have should be in you. "There's little  
hope," the doctors have spoken to you, "I'm sorry."

You should have never let her go inside there first, you knew inside  
your heart it wasn't right, but you let her go and now you wish you'd  
been the one inside first, the one to be severely hurt, the one to be  
lying in the bed right then and there. Your hand slides to her limp one  
and you caress it with your thumb, letting the salty tears drip down  
your cheeks.

She once told you that you had to be more human. Whenever you were around  
her before this, she saw a cardboard cut-out whose inner self never showed.  
As the months passed on, you began to show her yourself in ways only  
candlelight and privacy could, and you had finally found yourself. You  
had been in her all along.  
As she lay by your side one night, she had told you something you'd never  
forget. She had whispered softly, "I'm with child" and you had almost  
passed out. The news was more than you had ever expected, and now you  
remember your hand touching her belly gently, you had found yourself  
in your child as well.

All of which happened before the accident seemed like a fairy tale, everything  
that was then was wonderful, you were living a story-book life, and she  
was your maiden princess. She thought of you as a hero and as her knight  
in shining armour, and you remember the smile that would spread across  
her face when you'd whisper in soft tones inside her ear in French, and  
she'd respond in a kiss.

Then it happened. A mad man without a heart. She had been hurt badly,  
though you had shielded her from the weapon the man carried, and it was  
24 hours afterwards that you finally realized that all wasn't perfect  
and all wasn't well as you watched her breathe a shuddered breath of  
the air into her lungs, you'd hope it wasn't her last.

The child had survived, but it too would pass away if its mother did,  
and you grieve with a sense of anger and blood-hate against the convict  
your friend, a Chicago detective, arrested afterwards. But afterwards  
was too late for her as you wrapped her body in your arms, you could  
see the wound he made against her, and the red stains from her blood  
on her shirt as you prayed she'd make it to the hospital.

You remember sadly, as you sit by her bedside now, brushing the strands  
of dark hair away from her face, something someone once told you a long  
time back. "Love is more powerful than hate," and "Treasure every moment  
you'll have." You had done the latter, but the first killed you inside.  
You knew you hated the man who shot her more than anybody in the world.

You remember quietly her saying once to you when you felt uneasy about  
having the child as your own, "Rest assured, Benton. All is well." But  
you still had a queasy feeling in your gut when you remembered one of  
the Vecchio children and laughed at your own silliness for worrying.  
You'd have a happy family.

You know now he must rest assured. But you can't. All you strength inside  
you was telling you that not only would you loose your love, but you'd  
loose your life. Your life in hers. You had only wished that the events  
of the horrid past would change. You had only wished she'd awake in your  
arms, and it had all been a terrible nightmare. You had only wished she'd  
soon find herself in this night of despare as the only thing you can  
finally say slips past your lips into a shuddered kiss to her forehead,  
letting your lips linger against her baby soft skin:

"Just breathe."

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